Page 80 of From Coast to Coast
“Fuck, Remy, I’m?—”
“Gray! It’s fine. I’m fine. Stop apologizing for things that are out of your control. I’m not worried about it and I don’t want you to be, either. If anything, I’m a little relieved. This team feels like a ticking time bomb. I’d rather not be within the blast radius when things really go sideways.”
“It sounds like things have already gone sideways,” I remind him weakly. Vaguely, I wonder if the churning in my stomach will end with me hurling the contents over the edge of my balcony. This isexactlywhat I’d worried about when Remy and I started screwing around.
“Stop worrying. Isn’t that usually my job?” he teases. “I’ll call you later, okay? We can video and watch how badly Calgary sucks without me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I respond. “Good luck.”
He disconnects the call and I let my arm drop limply to my side. I’m sure that Remy is right, and the fact that none of the guys ever said shit directly to my face was a reflection of cowardice. Remy might be in the same line of work as the rest of us, but he’s a great deal smaller than me. If a bully was going to pick one of us to attack, it was never going to be me.
Frustrated at my impotence, I open the patio door with more force than necessary and stalk inside. I feel fuckinguseless, being here in Colorado while Remy is in Canada having to defend himself against a situation I put him in. A situation Ilefthim in. The bliss of our California days feels so far gone, I can hardly believe they ended only a couple days ago.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Remy
The bravadoI was able to fake on Grayson’s behalf leaves me as soon as I step into the administrative section of the arena. My hands ache, and there is a long scratch on my neck from Petterson. Approaching the office, I knock my fist on the door, pushing it open slightly where it wasn’t latched.
“Come in,” Ryan Todrick calls. Setting my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I push the door open and step into the office.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” I keep my voice carefully pleasant, acting like my innocent ass has no idea why I might be called into my boss’ office.
“Take a seat, Mr. Stone. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
He steeples his fingers in front of him, leaning his elbows on the desk. I recline back in my chair, arms draped casually on the rests. He’s waiting for me to break the silence, but I have no interest in making this easier for anyone. This is theclub who supported Grayson right up until the moment he told them he was gay, before making his life as miserable as they could get away with. As far as I’m concerned, the problem starts from above. The problem starts with this smug bastard, sitting in his office, in his fancy suit, and letting his team rot from within.
“Well, Mr. Stone, I think you know why you’re here.” He flips open a leather folder and peers down at what I recognize is my contract. Shuffling through, he settles on the page he’s looking for and looks up at me with a mock concerned expression on his face. “You attacked a teammate during practice yesterday, which is a direct breach of the contract you signed.”
“Yes, sir.” No point denying it. Not with a room full of witnesses. Todrick looks surprised. Perhaps he’d expected me to act contrite, or even deny what happened. He sits back in his chair, eyeing me thoughtfully.
“I see you and Grayson Brody formed a close relationship. He was a great asset to our organization—we were sad to see him go.”
Ah, changing tactics, I see.“Were you, though? Seems like you guys signed off on the trade pretty quickly.”
“Is that what this is about? You feel that he was stilted in the trade deal and are taking it out on your teammates?” He sighs, shaking his head and giving me the most condescending look he can manage. “Relationships between teammates are fraught with issues. Had you come to management and disclosed the nature of?—”
“Have a lot of experience withrelationships between teammates, do you?” I interrupt. “Grayson got the better of you with that trade deal, and you know it. And what happened at practice has nothing to do with that,sir. You know what elsewas in that contract I signed?” I aim a pointed glance at the file still sitting open in front of him. “A safe and nondiscriminatory working environment.”
“And had you felt discriminated against, you would have spoken to HR,” he responds smoothly.
“Mr. Todrick, I get what you’re saying, but when someone calls me a faggot and then talks shit about someone I love, I’m not about to fill out a form that will get processed and ignored. I’m going to teach that person a lesson.”
“Unfortunate as it is, slurs are part of the game. You can’t tell me this is the first time you’ve heard that word, Mr. Stone. Boys will be boys, particularly when tensions are high. Hockey is a volatile sport.”
My hands curl into fists around my knees and I have to fight to unclench my jaw.This self-righteous, arrogant motherfucker.
“I would think having Grayson—an openly gay player—on your team would have made you more concerned about slurs being used on your ice,” I manage to loosen my jaw enough to say.
“We cannot police your mouths, as well you know. We can, however, police how youreact. Fighting during practice is assaulting a teammate.”
“Boys will be boys,” I reply silkily, shrugging nonchalantly. He narrows his eyes at me, unhappy with having his words thrown back into his face.
“What would you have me do?” he asks, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I have grounds to terminate your contract. Or”—he pauses, letting me sit in suspense while he smiles at me benignly—“you and Leon Petterson could shake hands and get over this like men. Youcan sign a statement vowing that it won’t happen again, and we will wash our hands of this.”
“No.”